


"More than just dudes, right?"

by Charowak



Category: 6teen
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, yes i am the only person who ships this in god's year of 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charowak/pseuds/Charowak
Summary: a drunk friend says some things to his love that he ends up regretting.apologies to p.f. sloan for the use of his words.





	"More than just dudes, right?"

The three-chord song was familiar to him; he used it nearly all the time. Wyatt had his pick in his right hand and the neck of his guitar in his left, switching his left fingers between the positions as if it were a chore and mumbling the lyrics softer than the sound of the strumming. He paused, picked up the glass next to him, and took a long sip from it: it was one of his favorite drinks, a couple ounces of vodka in the bottom and filled to the brim with the fanciest ginger ale he could afford. A smirk found its way onto his face after the glass had left his lips and he returned to his playing, this time singing the lyrics loud enough to be heard across the empty house.

“And you tell me over and over and over again my friend, you don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction!”

Somehow, he had noticed, he was able to keep his singing voice intact even when nearly shouting. It truly was a gift for someone who loved music so much to be able to sing for catharsis and not sound repulsive.

He heard a knock on his bedroom door. Wasn’t there nobody home? “Come in,” he shouted. It was his best friend, whose beanie was pulled down slightly farther than usual and whose bright blue eyes pointed down towards his sad half-smile. He had found his way in like he usually did; it was like he lived there.

“Hey,” Jude said, closing the door behind him.

“What’s up? Hey, do you want a drink?” Without waiting for an answer, Wyatt stood, his guitar still in his left hand, and went to the cabinet where he kept the big glass bottle of plain vodka.

Jude situated himself in the usual spot on the floor, parallel to where Wyatt always sat with his guitar in his lap and his back against his bed; both boys would sit cross-legged with about eight inches between their knees as they spoke. “Yeah,” Jude said out of courtesy, though he knew his friend would prepare him a drink whether he wanted one or not.

Wyatt picked a glass off of his desk probably from the last time he’d gotten drunk, not the cleanest but not disgusting either. He eyeballed the correct amount of vodka to add, then went into his mini-fridge for the ginger ale. He never added ice to his alcohol. It was just solid water— who wants water with their booze anyway? Handing the drink to Jude, he positioned himself in his natural seat of parallel knees and replaced the guitar on his lap. “Bad day?” he asked.

Jude nodded as he sucked down a small sip from the glass. He shook himself out at the taste of the drink; he had never been good at getting strong liquor down. “She broke up with me.”

Wyatt knew what Jude meant by “she;” it was whatever dumb girl he had dated this time. Jude never liked to say the names of the girls he had once dated but was no longer with. Wyatt figured it was a way of avoiding the pain, the sharp sting that comes along with remembering her name. “Why? What happened?”

“She said she wants to see another dude.” Jude held the drink in his hand, drumming his fingers nervously against the side of the glass and staring directly into it, watching the bubbles as they quickly rose to the top. “She was pretty nice about it, I guess, but I saw them together later, and that sucked, man.”

“Pretty nice?” Wyatt narrowed his eyes. “You realize she was probably cheating on you with this ‘other dude’ before she broke up with you, right?”

Jude nodded, not looking up from the drink.

Wyatt sighed heavily and picked up his own drink; it was about half-full. He tipped his head back and drained it into his mouth, his third one already that night. He slipped his guitar pick into the pick holder on the back of the guitar’s head and swiftly moved it to the bed behind him. With his hands now empty, he uncrossed his legs and scooted closer to Jude, bringing his knees together and sitting on his feet. “You know, man, I hate every single girl you’ve ever fucking dated.” Jude looked up from the drink and met Wyatt’s eyes with his own; they seemed bigger and bluer than they ever had. “None of them know how to treat you. They all just want you because you’re so damn cute or whatever, and when they find someone cuter, they toss you aside like… moldy leftovers.”

“I know.” Jude took another sip of his drink, having to shake himself out again. “I’ve never met a girl who treated me nicely. I don’t know if they exist, and I don’t think I’ll ever find one.”

A surge of electricity traveled through Wyatt’s brain and moved throughout his body. Sitting in front of him was the boy he had privately loved for as long as he had known that he was capable of loving boys as well as girls, the most beautiful and perfect boy he had ever had the pleasure of meeting and befriending, and this regularly told himself that he was undeserving of love and would never find it! Was he fucking blind? Did he not see what was there in the very same room as him? “Don’t you ever fucking say that,” Wyatt snapped. Jude jumped and clutched his drink tightly, his eyes widening in shock. “Do you know how good of a person you are? Every girl you’ve ever met is a bitch! None of them deserved you. I don’t think there’s a single girl in this town who’s good enough for you. But I’m telling you, one day you will find someone who will take good care of you and treat you exactly how you deserve to be treated. You’re sixteen goddamn years old and you think you’ve met every pretty girl in the universe?” He stopped and stared directly into Jude’s eyes. “Huh? Do you?”

Jude shook his head, shrinking back.

Wyatt was standing now, looking down into Jude’s baffled face. “These fucking _girls_ that you meet! They trick you into thinking they’re nice with their sweet little words and their pretty little faces and you fucking fall for it like the goddamn idiot you are! Every! Single! Time! And then they leave you in the dirt like they always do and they’ve gone off to their new boyfriends and suddenly here you are sitting on my floor and you can’t even swallow a sip of a fucking vodka soda without the taste bugging you out! Why is it always the same type of girl that you date? I fucking hate them! I hate all of them! And here the fuck you are, saying there’s nobody nice in this world, and you—”

Wyatt stopped. It had just occurred to his drunk ass that he was yelling, and now that he had realized this, he was able to see his best friend on the floor, taking in sharp, heavy breaths, his eyes filled with tears. He knew he had fucked up. The only thing he could do, and the only thing he did, was grab the drink from Jude’s hand, then grab his arm and drag him out of his room, down the stairs, and out the front door. He did not meet Jude’s eyes as he slammed the door in his face and locked it.

The world was beginning to spin at this point, and Wyatt realized the error of his ways. He knew Jude was running down the front path to where his car was parked and driving home sobbing and there was nothing he could do to stop him, there was only one thing to do and that was to go back to his room and finish the drink he had poured for his best friend and his love, who he knew with his drunken awareness that he had just severely hurt, and then pour himself another, and another, until he vomited into the toilet and he retreated to his bed with tears streaming down his face and his body racked with sobs of his own.

*

His head hurt. That was the first thing Wyatt was aware of as his eyes opened onto the next day. He found his way to the shower, brushed his teeth, dressed, and made himself a cup of the strongest coffee he kept in the house in order to stave off his headache. He climbed into his car like a zombie. Going to the mall was the thing he did every day. It was where all his friends were, where his entire life was. He only realized upon pulling into the parking lot that it was also where Jude was, and that he would have to face him.

Wyatt spent a few minutes in the car preparing his apology and steeling himself for how upset Jude might be before he made his entry into the mall. The Big Squeeze was closed; he imagined Caitlyn was late as usual. Someone was sitting at their table in front of the lemon, and his stomach lurched as he realized it was Jude. He took a deep breath and walked over to the table. He didn’t sit at first; he waited for Jude to look up at him and acknowledge his presence. “Hey, dude,” Jude said.

Wyatt pulled out the chair next to Jude and sat in it. “Hey. I, uh, I’m really sorry about last night.”

Jude smiled. “It’s okay.”

“Really, I didn’t mean any of it, I was just drunk—”

“No, dude.” Jude placed himself so he was facing Wyatt, both their knees touching each other’s, put his hand on his shoulder, and looked into his eyes with a smile on his face. “It’s _okay._ I know you’re just looking out for me.”

“Yeah.” Wyatt nodded. “You know how much I care about you, right? You know how I feel about you?”

Jude scooted his chair closer to Wyatt’s and pulled him into the softest hug he’d ever given him, one arm encircling his lower back and the other hand resting in his thick, curly hair. “Yeah. More than just dudes, right?”

Wyatt smiled and buried his face in his shoulder. “Yeah. Right.”

Neither of them were sure how much time had passed before a familiar squeal surprised them. “OMG! You guys!” It was Caitlyn, lemon hat and all, rushing to open the lemon a bit later than she should have. “What’s happening here? What did I miss?”

Jude ruffled Wyatt’s hair and sent Caitlyn a gentle, knowing look. “Fuck off, dudette. We’re having a moment.”

“Oh, okay! I get it.” Caitlyn giggled and went about her opening of the stand, pausing every once in a while to glance at the two seated at the table, who had since parted from their embrace but kept their hands intertwined, a whole new range of ideas passing through their heads as to what was to happen next.

**Author's Note:**

> hi i hope you enjoyed this! i wrote it in about an hour. this is a ship that needs more love and i'm probably going to be writing lots more for it. thanks for reading!!!


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